Nowhere and Nothing
by The Leaf 180
Summary: Shudders rack his thin frame as he coughs, his chest constricting, pressing down low and hard until spots appeared in his vision and he did not know anything anymore. Romano looks after a sickly Spain with concern that he does not care to hide.


**Ah, this has no plot. Just sick Spain, worried Romano and a little bit of comfort here and there. Established relationship~**

* * *

His thin lips parted as he panted. Dull, half-lidded eyes watched Romano as he neared, exhausted lips twitching upward into a feeble grin as liquid emerald eyes fluttered closed. Spain's mouth went slack as his unnaturally chalky face became an ashen hue. He was worn down from days of illness to cough, so he wheezed, eyes opening to see the too-bright lights of the room as it spun.

His vision fluxed and blurred after each shallow, quavering breath. His tight chest constricted, leaving him gasping for breath as he swayed in and out of consciousness. He could hear Romano speaking to him, in which he responded with a breathless cough and a weary sigh.

His throat was scraped raw, beads of sweat perched atop his furrowed eyebrows. Kneading pressure built up behind glassy green eyes, glazed with fever. He felt a cool towel against his damp forehead, doing little to soothe his skyrocketing temperature.

Rheumy eyes were crusted with mucus as he lay, encased in heat. A rosy blush dusted his gaunt face. Heavy limbs shifted, accenting the lingering ache in his muscles, his bones, his being. His head pulsed and throbbed as he jerked it to the side to catch the Italian by his side in his soaring tunnel vision.

He remained sore to the touch, and his ears rang as he struggled to sit up, swollen eyes screwed shut as his weak arms refused to support his weight. Gentle but firm hands grasped him by the shoulders and tenderly pushed him down, low tones reaching his ears, comforting nothings calming him for reasons he could not explain.

He wheezed from the effort it stole from him, collapsing onto the bed, exhaustion closing his eyelids, but sleep was not within his grasp. He hovered in the in-between of consciousness, coherency long since forgotten, but rest continued to elude him.

* * *

He shuddered with chills, both warm and cold as a tremor shot through him. He wearily wished away the sharp, piercing agony at his temples, drilling into his skull, pounding down his neck. Lightheadedness swamped him and his stomach churned and tossed albeit his appetite was non-existent.

He attempted to wet his parched throat with his tongue, but it felt fat and limp in his mouth and did nothing to moisten his throat. Jolts shot through him as he shivered uncontrollably, shoulders racked with spasms.

The layers of blankets were futile to vanquish the bitter cold. Fatigue riddled eyes opened into slits as his wet cough, causing him to choke, sending him spiraling down into a coughing fit and a few moments of suffocation-panic, oh god's he's going to die, but he doesn't mind, anything to take the pain away.

Before his wishes can be granted, he gulps in a breath, and then another, his lungs vibrating as he heaved. The air in the room seemed smoldering, smothering him as he swallowed air, feverish eyes glossy and delusional as the dreamless sleep lulled his mind and pulled him into the rest he so desired.

He watched the ghost of his past swim across his vision, taunting him before swinging out of his reach. He tries to call out to them, but his voice comes out in an unintelligible croak, battering his eardrums and being swept away by their voices in his ears.

His calls echoed back to him, words twisting and mutating until his words were no longer decipher and all that remained was incomprehensible cackling. Spain traces the clumps of colors floating across his vision, until he is met with the grim face of Romano in his peripheral vision. Spain meets his brooding eyes with dazed orbs of his own.

Chapped lips part, but all that escape are grating coughs, as cloying, icy tendrils snaking across his chest, pressing down low and hard until spots appeared in his vision and he did not know anything anymore.

* * *

Jade eyes grew hazy as his chest compressed; convulsions making him squirm as he met the eyes of his distressed lover, hooded eyes betraying his discontent, thin lips puckered in a scowl. Spain could only offer his drained, miserable eyes as comfort.

Romano hauled Spain into a sitting position, ignoring his ragged, quick breaths, and the way his scrawny shoulders shook with each rough inhale and exhale. Romano stripped Spain of his sweat soaked clothes dutifully, cringing almost unperceivably after he made contact with Spain's clammy skin.

Spain stared ahead numbly with bleary eyes, wincing as pointed jabs poked in between his ribs, making him want to keel into himself. Romano tentatively eased Spain onto his back, clothed once more, drawing the blanket onto his hunched shoulders. Spain moan softly as his head swam and his chest ached.

The Italian grimaced, taking in his sickly, pitiful form. Spain's face flickered into a smile, but it was frail and irresolute, wavering like a dying candle flame on his pasty face.

Romano sat down on a chair by the bedside that he had been occupying loyally for days, slumping his shoulders in defeat. Spain watched him with tired eyes as he buried his face in his hands.

He imagined Romano working himself tirelessly, flitting in and out of rooms, staying on top of cleaning and taking care of him while nervously checking up on his lover to see if his condition had worsened. The Italian massaged his temples and eyes as Spain continued to breathe heavily, his gaze darkening at the corners.

"I hate," Romano rasped, "_Hate _seeing you like this."

Spain's eyes crinkles at the corners as he hummed lowly, coughing up a ball of phlegm at the action. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and attempted to swallow it, feeling the mucus drip down his throat leisurely.

"You've been asleep for _days_," The Italian exclaimed, "A-and your fever… I didn't know what to do."

A dry sob escaped Romano's throat as his shoulder's shook, depleted, frustrated eyes peering at him through gaps between fingers. Spain reiased an eyebrow in surprise at the action.

The Italian bowed his head. "You were calling out to people I didn't know, convsersing with them, cursing them..."

It killed the Spaniard to see his underling like this, crumbling down after days of demanding effort, taut with fear and dread as he suffered. If Spain could have found his voice, he would have told him, its okay! You're doing the best you can!

"I felt so…" _Concerned. Anxious. Scared. _Romano fished for words, "So helpless, and you looked so _broken."_

Hush, Spain wanted to assure him, I understand, it's going to be alright. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.

Romano removed his hands from his face, oblivious to words unspoken. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Forgive me, I must be unraveling… I just need to sleep."

"T-th…" Spain tried, his dry throat uneven after days of silence. He swallowed thickly and tried again.

Romano perked up, watching him with his full attention as Spain attempted to communicate. His eyes softened as the message was received grimacing briefly, with relief.

"Thank you," He grunted, his throat prickling as his voice grated against his ears. "For looking after me."

Trembling fingers reached out, assaulted by the cold air. Romano granted his wish, intertwining his lover's fingers with his, squeezing slightly. Romano smiled forlornly.

"It was my pleasure."


End file.
